tagToys & MasturbationSelf Pleasuring

Self Pleasuring


Glancing at the clock above my monitor I am surprised by the hour. Once again I have stayed up too late writing. I wonder, as I shut down the computer, strip and crawl into bed, where does the time go?

The sheets are clean, crisp and cold. My body shivers as I run my hands up and down trying to generate some body warmth. My nipples are achingly hard from the cold, covering them with my hands to warm them, my palms register the firmness of the nipples. I briefly consider getting up and grabbing a tee shirt, but I cannot abide by night clothes, I usually end up getting tied up in them, so I sleep sans jammies.

In minutes I am warm, rolling to my side, by hand automatically slips between my thighs, cupping my mound. My index finger slips between my lips and I am surprised by how wet I am. My current writing project has turned out to be a great deal more erotic than I had anticipated. My characters are taking on a life of their own and I enjoy the places they take me, it makes leaving them in the computer very difficult.

In my mind I conjure up an imaginary partner, a strong, silent, faceless man with rough, demanding hands. His will is paramount. He will demand, push and pull at me to meet his needs.

A second finger has joined the first and they are lazily stroking the area below the head of my clit. My pubic hair is dotted with droplets of my juices, like small, opalescent pearls of wetness. Inside I can feel the first hints of my muscles tightening so my fingers make a light, teasing pass over the head of my clit. The sensation is so intense that my body convulses at the touch. Returning to the area below the hood, my fingers pick up the pace slightly. The faceless man watches disinterestedly. He will join me when he is ready, no sooner.

My other hand has been massaging the back of my neck and caressing my collarbone. Proceeding to the delicate area on the underside of my breasts, fingernails gently rake the tender flesh, changing the flesh pink. My nipples are erect and sensitive from brushing against the top sheet. I run a finger, damp with my juices around a nipple and the scent wafts up to my nose. It is pleasant, musky and in a moment of curiosity, my finger moves to my mouth, where I taste myself. Gently sucking on my finger, I think of the last time I tasted myself, on another's lips.

The faceless man has moved beside me, I imagine his large calloused thumb and forefinger pinching small pieces of flesh, all over my breasts, peppering the white flesh with small red crescent marks from his nails. His attention moves to a nipple which he seizes, pinching and pulling on it, the force becoming greater and the pinch becoming harder. Silently, breathlessly I endure the pain, anticipating the bloom of pleasure just on the other side. He rolls the nipple roughly between his fingers until, hitting the nerve on the fine edge between pain and pleasure, his efforts cause me to cry out and pant raggedly.

Turning me over, he pulls my ass within reach and slaps it. My yelp, part surprise, part from pain annoys him and he decides to give me a proper spanking. Positioned in his lap, I can feel his cock, hard and pressing against me as his bare hand beats a staccato rhythm on my ample bottom, turning the tender flesh a bright red from my waist to the upper thighs.

The sounds of my hand hitting my flesh and the whimpers I make in the dark only serve to excite me further. The fingers between my legs are working furiously on my clit and the sensations from within tell me that my orgasm is welling up like a huge multicolored soap bubble, larger and larger, impossibly so.

There is a fine trembling running up and down my legs, muscles inside my cunt are convulsing and my hips eagerly thrust at the fingers that delve within my dripping depths. The orgasm is looming, but just out of reach.

"Fuck me," I hiss to the darkness as I add more fingers to my sopping cunt and my other hand focuses on working my clit. The rawness, the pure craving embodied in those two words, hanging in the silence of the room is just enough to push me over the edge, bursting the bubble. Juices spurt from between my fingers and I thrash in the throes of pleasure that overwhelm me.

Moments later I catch my breath and snuggle into the pillows, sure to sleep soundly.

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byilikeice© 2 comments/ 17399 views/ 2 favorites

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